


'Til Death Do Us Part

by abeautifulmessofcontradictions, TheTwoFlamingos, tinyPsycho77



Category: The Blacklist (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-21
Updated: 2016-03-21
Packaged: 2018-05-28 01:09:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 12,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6308065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/abeautifulmessofcontradictions/pseuds/abeautifulmessofcontradictions, https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheTwoFlamingos/pseuds/TheTwoFlamingos, https://archiveofourown.org/users/tinyPsycho77/pseuds/tinyPsycho77
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On the day of Lizzie's wedding, Red decides to leave her life for good, intent on giving her a chance to have her own life, free from his influence. Will she regret pushing him away?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> For Charlotte A. via her Facebook request on the Lizzington shippers page. This was our first attempt at a three-way chain story! Let us know what you think in the comments below :)

They say that everyone has a limit. A ceiling of how much physical and emotional abuse they can take before they finally snap. Raymond Reddington had never reached that point over the course of his fifty-six years on this planet. Until now. 

_ “You have no idea what it feels like; to feel like you’re life isn’t your own anymore.” _

Her words sliced through him, perforating the calm, hardened exterior he had built to project onto the world. It didn’t matter that she hadn’t intended for him to hear them. She had said them. She had  _ thought  _ them.

He retreated from the doorway of Tom’s hospital room and escaped into the hallway. It would be impossible for him to save her if she truly did not want to be saved.

There were things that he needed to tell her, things that he needed to explain, but none of that mattered if she refused to listen. He would never be able to protect her from herself.

Red leaned his back against the cold tile of the wall and closed his eyes. How many times must he show her? How many times must he practically shove the evidence down her throat? At first, he had been able to handle all her anger and hurt, to absorb the venom-filled words she hurled at him, certain in the knowledge that, someday, she would come around; that, someday, she would learn to see reason. Apparently, he had been wrong.

A part of him needed to make her see the truth, no matter the personal cost. There would always be a section of his heart devoted to preserving the fragile secrets of her life, but she seemed determined to drive him away, to refuse his help. He was tired, so very tired, of fighting her, of bearing the weight of her blame, of being the target of her own selfish, petty rage. He would continue to bear it all, though, if it meant that she would have the chance to live her life in relative safety. 

She insisted, however, on maintaining her faith in the wrong person; this was his last chance to save her from herself.  _ But she doesn’t want you to, _ the voice of reason whispered in his head. He came to the realization that he would never be all the things that she needed and the awareness broke his heart, leaving him breathless, holding himself up against the wall.

He would have to leave her. With him in her life, she would never be able to fully move on and he wanted that,  _ needed _ that for her. If she wouldn’t allow him to protect her, to save her from herself, the least he could do would be to let her move on from him in peace, to truly have the life he wished for her. And the rest of the world would have to believe it as well.

He sighed as he pushed himself away from the wall, making his way down the hallway without even one last glance back at her. The sight of her holding Tom’s hand would have been too much for his tattered heart to bear. His stride sped up as he pulled the burner phone from his jacket pocket and dialed the familiar number.

“Kate, I’m going to need an exit strategy.”


	2. Chapter 2

The day of her wedding dawned bright and clear, perfect as a day could be. Lizzie couldn’t help but compare it to the first time she had married Tom. That day had been dreary and overcast from the moment she opened her eyes. It had poured on them during the ceremony and the power had gone out during the reception, but they had laughed and their friends had made a great party out of the whole day. Tom had been adoring and laid-back, refusing to let anything ruin her mood. He had carried her over mud puddles and they had snickered and shrieked in the rain.

Today could not have been more different. Today was a day with sparkling skies and the promise of a whole future resplendent with new life and all the dreams she’d ever had coming true. And yet, despite the hope and possibility that the day seemed to exude, Lizzie couldn’t help but feel completely different than she had on the morning of her first marriage. She glared worriedly at her reflection. Something was off; something didn’t _feel_ right and she just couldn’t shake the nagging suspicion that it was the groom. She tucked a strand of her short brown hair behind her ear. She hadn’t heard from Reddington in almost nine days; not since the day after Tom had been shot. _That must be what this was,_ she thought, _I’m just uneasy because I haven’t heard from him._

 Lizzie had always known that Red’s absence from her life left a void, but she had never felt it so keenly as she had during the past week. Each time he had left unexpectedly in the last three years, her world seemed to dull, time moved a bit slower, she was a little less inclined to strive for perfection. With the plans for her second (or was it third?) wedding to the same man looming over her, she had felt his absence acutely.

 She pushed thoughts of Reddington from her mind and straightened the bodice of her dress and tried to focus on the magic of the day. At seven months pregnant, she was supposed to feel radiant, glowing; all the books said so. What she felt was fat. And bloated. And incredibly hormonal.

Lizzie sighed at herself one more time and touched up her powder. In a few moments, Cooper would come for her and walk her down the aisle to the man who was and, she was sure always would be, her true love.

Then why did this feel so wrong?

 The door opened behind her and she turned in her chair at the sound. Her eyes widened in surprise to find Red, not Cooper, walking towards her across the room and she felt the breath inexplicably leave her body.  He was as picture-perfect as ever in a fitted black suit, looking just at ease here in a place she knew he’d rather not be, as he did on his plane or around a conference room table or holding a gun to someone’s head. It was all the same for him; he was ever unchanged.  

 But for her, it felt as though nothing would ever be the same again. Her stress seemed to melt away in his presence and she felt as though the bonds anchoring her to the earth slipped more firmly into place.

“Lizzie,” his gravelly voice rasped her name.

“What are you doing here?” She pushed herself up from the dressing table. “Where have you been?”

His eyes moved from her lovely face, to the evidence of her impending motherhood, and back again. He smiled at her and it almost reached his eyes. There were so many things he wanted to say, but there just wasn’t time.

“I came to see you one last time.”

“Last?” She couldn’t quite keep the rising tone of panicked confusion from her voice.

“Yes, Lizzie, last.” He took a step towards her. His eyes roamed the room, suddenly looking everywhere but at her. His distress became more evident the longer he was in her proximity. He took a deep breath. “I’m leaving.”

She stumbled forward in surprise, stopping short of actually touching him. “Why?”

“I can’t…” He shook his head, “I can’t stay here and watch you do this. I can’t see you throw your whole life away again, and the life of your child. Not this time. Not when I can stop it.” His tongue worked nervously along the inside of his mouth.

Lizzie stared at him in disbelief.

He stepped forward again, hands worrying the fedora in his grasp, his eyes pleading with her. “You don’t have to do this. Your child will want for nothing; please let me help you.”

She shook her head, tears threatening to spill down her cheeks. “I can’t do this alone; I don’t want to--”

He cut her off. “You don’t have to!”

Lizzie closed her eyes, raising her face to the ceiling as if searching for patience. “Tom is this baby’s father.”

Red surged toward her and then pulled up short, physically restraining himself with the only remaining shreds of dignity and self-control in his possession. “Please, do not do this, Lizzie.” His hands furiously crushed the fabric of his hat to keep from taking her hands and kneeling in front of her to beg. “I implore you: do not turn your life over to him again.”

She watched him, dumbfounded. Her mouth opened and closed as if she couldn’t express the tirade of thoughts running through her mind.

“You know I prefer not to influence your decisions. I would give you as much control over your life as possible, but I cannot abide this.” His desperation grew as she watched him.

She blinked. “ _You_ give _me_ control over my life?!?” she asked incredulously. “You have more control over my life than anyone!”

Red held his hands up defensively. “That was for your protection, Lizzie.”

She stepped forward, poking a finger into his chest accusingly. “You have no right to ask anything of me! All you’ve ever done is ruin my life.” She advanced on him, forcing him to step back. “I would never have fallen in love with Tom in the first place if it hadn’t been for you. You have absolutely no say here.” She whirled away from him, wrapping her arms around herself to fight the silent tears that threatened.

“Lizzie….I-”

“Just get out, Red.” Her icy tone was evident though he couldn’t see her face. “I don’t want you here for this and you aren’t going to change my mind.” She closed her eyes and sent him away. “I love him, so just go.”

And so he went, leaving her to sob in her wedding dress on what should have been the happiest day of her life. She couldn’t know it yet, couldn’t know that it would be the last time she saw him, but she was now truly alone. She refused to turn and watch him as he walked out of her life forever.


	3. Chapter 3

Red carefully peeled the blue jacket from his body and folded it; he threw in on the back seat of the Mercedes and laid his fedora on top. He closed his eyes against the pain in his chest; his Lizzie was lost to him.

“Raymond, he’s coming.”

Red whipped his head around to stare at Dembe, mouth agape. “What?”

“The Major, he’s on his way. It’s been confirmed.” Dembe laid a hand on his friend's shoulder. “I’ve already called the team; they should be here before the Major arrives.”

Raymond forced a breath out through his nose. He threw a glance at the modest white chapel behind him. “How did he find them?”

“I have yet to ascertain that information, but my money's on Gina Zanetakos.”

“She choose Tom, but I have to protect her.”

“I know, Raymond, we will.”

* * *

 

Fifteen minutes later, Red stood at the apex of the human shield, his shotgun held firmly in a comfortable grip. His eyes were locked onto the group of people slowly approaching the church. The Major mirrored his position, but with a M5 in his grasp.

Red spared a glance at the entourage around him. Baz was standing off to his left, Dembe was to his right, one of each of the De Luca twins stood behind Dembe and Baz, their own assault rifles locked and loaded. 

“Reddington!” The Major lifted the rifle onto his shoulder. “We’ve come for Jacob.” He hollered across the walkway.

Red stood statue-still. “McCreedy, unfortunately I can’t allow you in.”His voice was thunderous against the calm, country silence.

“Oh, come now, Reddington,” He laughed. “We all know you have no love for him, especially now that he’s about to marry your woman. Why would you want to protect him?”

Red’s mouth twitched in agitation as he pondered whether or not to simply murder him for the offense. 

* * *

“What the hell?” Tom Keen spun away from the woman in white at the front of the chapel.

The faint sound of yelling outside pulled Elizabeth and Tom away from their wedding ceremony. Aram and Cooper followed suit, their eyes flashing to the double oak doors at the back of the church. 

Again, an elevated voice echoed in the silence; the words unclear. The deadly tone was well-received, spurring the four occupants into action. Mindful of the very pregnant woman in their midst, the three men rushed to the doors and, in a moment of complete mindlessness, yanked the double doors open. All three immediately faltered at the sight before them.

Lizzie almost slammed into Tom’s back at his abrupt halt; she peered over his shoulder and felt the air rush out of her lungs. 

She saw The Major and his people approach the church, armed to the teeth. Despite that, she felt a rush of relief when she spotted the shorn head of the Concierge of Crime standing in the middle of his own small army. 

“RED!”

“Tom, get her out of here,” Red barked out the order without breaking his concentration to look behind him.

Abruptly, Red swung the shotgun into position and fired. The buck shot sprayed out, rushing towards the cluster of men. The Major went down with a cry of pain as his knee shattered from the barrage of pellets. The reaction time of the rest of the Major’s band of merry men was less than impressive. 

Lizzie struggled against Tom as his arms closed around her to urge her back into the church, and watched in horror as the fire fight commenced. So focused was she on Red’s safety, she barely noticed that both Cooper and Aram had drawn their own pistols and plunged into the fray to lend aid to Red and his team.

The sound of Lizzie’s furious shouting faded away as Tom hustled her into the chapel, the distraction vanishing from Red’s ears as he trained his attention on the men in front of him.

As a smooth unit, all five men advanced on their enemies, bullets flying and blood pouring. From the corner of his eye, Red saw Nunzio De Luca take a slug to the chest and drop to the unforgiving gravel. 

With deadly accuracy, Red pumped two rounds of buckshot into two of The Major’s men, ending their fight early. He felt a searing pain in his left arm but shrugged it off; he fired two more shots, spraying more bullets at his enemies. He watched Dembe, Baz, and Enrico De Luca hold their own against the Major’s squad. Red emptied the shotgun into a rather big member of the Major’s clan, tossing the spent firearm to the ground as he unholstered his favoured 1911. From the corner of his eye, he saw Baz go down. 

He quickly put a bullet between the eyes of the man who had sent Baz to the ground. He watched as Dembe and Enrico, both with wounds of their own, made quick work of the remaining four henchmen. 

An eerie silence settled over the space and Red let out a shaky breath. He hastily holstered his pistol and ran to Baz as Enrico raced to his brother. 

“I’m good, Sir; just a graze.” Baz leaned on Dembe for balance, holding a hand to the wound on his thigh. 

Red nodded and clasped each man on a shoulder. “Thank you, both of you.” 

He turned and somberly crossed to the De Lucas. Tears streamed down Enrico’s face as he cradled his brother’s head in his lap. Red didn’t need to check for himself; he knew the older twin was dead. Red crouched down in the gravel and pulled Enrico’s face to his, speaking words unheard by the others before standing. He turned to Agents Cooper and Mojtabai, standing next to a visibly shaken Lizzie and a stoic-looking Tom.

“Lizzie-”

The name was barely out of his mouth before his arms were full of glowing bride. Ignoring the blinding agony in his arm, he pulled her tight against him.

“Lizzie-”

The unmistakable  _ crack  _ of a gunshot cut him off. He gazed at Lizzie in confusion and shock as he registered the panicked look of terror on her face. 

He collapsed into the gravel, bringing her to the ground with him. Dembe and Cooper’s quick hands slowed his descent.

Tom pulled Lizzie from Red’s arms before Red could take her down on top of him.

_ “Raymond!”  _

_ “Reddington!” _

_ “Red!” _

His cognitive brain registered the variations of his name as he was lowered to the ground. He tried to recognize who was calling his name but the pain coursing through his system made everything sound the way it did when his head was under water. Through the haze, he was able to distinguish another gunshot and the faint resonance of a man’s dying breath, the muttering of the Major’s name.

Lizzie cried out at the stream of red peeking out from under the right side of his black vest. She shifted her gaze to the small hole vandalizing the expensive fabric. 

“Oh my god, Red!” Lizzie’s hands snapped out to grab him arms.

Dembe immediately jumped into action.

“Tom, take her away.” He yanked his phone from his pocket and hit the magic numbers, bargaining with his fallen brother to hang on until Kate arrived. 

“Come on, Lizzie.” Tom coaxed her away from Red’s prone body.

“No, no, no...RED!” Lizzie fought against Tom’s insistent hands, desperately trying to reach the man that had just fended off a small battalion of trained killers to protect  _ him _ .

Red fought against a magnitude of pain unlike anything he had ever experienced before, his body convulsing as he attempted to reach for Lizzie. The tang of copper filled his mouth and the breath left his lungs in laboured wheezes on each exhalation. 

Dembe shouted out instructions to Cooper and Aram, while Enrico tended to Baz. The director of the task force checked each body, verifying that none of their opponents had survived. Aram dropped to his knees on the other side of Red, ready to do whatever Dembe needed him to in order to save Red’s life.

Lizzie struggled and wailed against Tom’s hold on her; her heart shattering as she was forced to face the very real possibility that Reddington might die there on that gravel road in front of the church. 

She thrashed against the tight band of Tom’s arms, her hand extended towards Red’s. 

“Lizzie, come on. We need to get out of her; they’re doing everything they can for him.”

She turned her head to glare bewilderedly at Tom, his words throwing her for a loop; he sounded as if he actually...cared about Red. She had expected him to be more than happy to haul her as far away from the dying Concierge of Crime as possible, yet he looked at her with small traces of sadness in his eyes. 

_ Sadness for Red? Or sadness that it wasn’t him who pulled the trigger?  _ Lizzie couldn’t help but feel it was the latter. 

“Lizzie….please, go.” Red’s rasping voice pulled her away from her almost-husband.

The pain in his expression convinced her and she allowed Tom to lead her to the rental car that they had planned to drive off in after the ceremony. 

Lizzie’s tears fell as Tom loaded her into the passenger seat. When they drove past Dembe performing CPR,  she felt the floodgates open and she poured out her heart as Tom drove them away.


	4. Chapter 4

The ride to Lizzie’s apartment commenced in dead silence. Her tears had stopped falling and now all she could do was stare out of the passenger window, staring as the city zoomed past.

She closed her eyes, assaulted by the image of Red laying in the dirt; his blood-drenched clothes, the .45 caliber bullet hole in his right pectoral muscle, the glazed look that changed his eyes from sharp green into dull as they locked onto hers, the dark red blood flooding from his mouth. In her mind, she heard Dembe calling out for his employer to stay with him, to not give up. 

Lizzie’s eyes snapped open, unable to bear witness to the past any longer. She felt the tears fight their way over the rims of her eyes and she quickly brushed him away. 

“Liz?” Tom’s voice was soft and comforting.

Only when she looked at him did she realize that they had arrived at her apartment. Still all primped from the wedding that had never happened, Lizzie climbed out of the truck and began the ascent to her home. She spared a glance at Tom, conflicted. He seemed genuinely distraught about the whole situation, yet something in his eyes indicated that there was more going on inside his head.

_ Was he just putting on pretenses for her sake? Was he just grieving because she was? Or was he sincere in his affections?  _ After all, Red was the reason Tom was still here beside her.

The more she thought about these questions, the more she came to realize that she  _ shouldn’t _ be thinking about this at all. She loved Tom and shouldn't be doubting him, however she could not quash the irritating fact that Tom might just be happy about the possibility that Red may not live to see tomorrow.      

Upon entering the apartment, Lizzie was hit with an overwhelming need to remove her current attire and step under a hot shower; she needed to wash the events of the day off her body. She made her way to the bathroom, refusing to make eye contact or utter a single word to Tom as she undressed. She noticed the way he clenched his jaw at her refusal to allow him to join her and it stunned her somewhat when she acknowledged that she didn’t care.

Lizzie stood under the spray of the hot water, letting it cleanse her of the past few hours. Over and over, she told herself the same thing:  _ He’s going to be fine, Dembe got to him in time and he’s going to pull through. _ She needed to convince herself of this, she needed to quash the doubt in her mind that Red might die. Irrationally her mind drew a disturbing parallel; this was the second time she had been upset with him right before he was gunned down. 

The icy water on her face jarred her from her inner turmoil. She hastily shut the pipes off and stepped out of the shower, she didn’t bother with a towel as she moved into the bedroom. She dressed quickly and joined Tom on the couch, sitting on the far end, away of him. A stint of painful awkwardness stretched over the two of them, neither person knowing what to say to alleviate the mood that settled in the space of the apartment.

They sat together on the couch for what seemed like an eternity, both with lots on their minds; but nothing to say. A hard knock at the door interrupted their internal musings. Lizzie indicated for Tom to remain on the couch as she padded over to the door and put her eye to the peep-hole.

Hurriedly she unfastened the dead bolt and stepped aside as Dembe Zuma took a step into her home. She couldn’t help but look quizzically at the black box in Dembe’s arms. She dragged her eyes up to his face and knew why he was here. 

“No…” She backed away towards a bar stool, settling herself onto it before the wave of fresh tears could blind her.

“Elizabeth-” His own voice was choked.

“No, Dembe-” The damn broke and the tears poured down her face, her sobs tore from her throat 

“I’m sorry, Lizzie.” he moved towards her, ignoring Tom entirely.

He placed the box on the bar next to her and drew her shuddering form to him. He quelled the urge to glare at Tom as he rose from the couch and disappeared into the bedroom. Dembe held fast onto Lizzie and unleashed his own agony at the loss of his best friend and brother.

For several minutes the two friends clung to each other before pulling apart. 

“When?”

“He died shortly after you left. Once he knew you were safe.”

“Where did you take his body? I want to see him.”

“I’m afraid that’s not possible, he was cremated.”

“What?!”

“Elizabeth, you must understand, Raymond was a man who was wanted dead by many. In the event of his death he had a plan set in motion that would prevent any of his enemies from being able to collect the bounty on his head. It would be an insult to him to allow someone to profit from his death.”

He grabbed the box off the countertop and handed it to her. “This is for you, Elizabeth.”

Lizzie lifted the top off and more tears streamed down her face as she pulled out his black fedora; the same one he wore that very first time she met him. She kept the hat on one hand, refusing to relinquish contact with the only thing that she had left of him, and reached further into the box. Her fingers closed around something small and solid, she lifted it out of the box and the tears came harder as she gazed upon the silver pen that she had rammed into his carotid artery. He had kept it all this time, even had is put in a shadow box, she held it closer, reading the engraving on the silver plaque.

_ We made a great team. _

The final item in the box caused her eyebrows to raise. She removed the small red envelope from the box, turning it over she examined the gold seal at the back, two R’s stood back to back and she couldn’t suppress the small, sad, smile at his personal touch. 

“He never wanted you to see this, at least, not while he was alive. He was afraid of that you might think.”

Lizzie continued to stare that the double R’s on the seal, her heart breaking over and over the longer she looked. She couldn’t believe, didn’t want to believe it. He couldn’t be gone, he was Raymond ‘Red’ Reddington, the FBI’s fourth most wanted, the Concierge of Crime; he survived 20 or more years on the run. She couldn’t believe that he had been brought down by someone like the Major.

She knew she was in denial and that when she finally accepted his death it would be easier to move on, but she didn’t want to accept it, not yet; not ever. 

Lizzie was lifted from her thoughts by the sound of retreating footfalls. She snapped her head up and watched Dembe make his way back towards the front door. She put the envelope and pen back into the box, but refused to let go of his hat, and followed Dembe.

“There’s one more thing,” Dembe reached into his jacket pocket and produced another envelope; this one was white however. “Raymond had it put in his will that all profits from his legitimate business be placed in an account for you and the baby. He made sure that the money was clean.”

Lizzie received the envelope with shaky hands. She had thrown his offer back in face when he was alive, and she hated herself for being so spiteful.

Dembe turned from her and opened the door. “If you need anything, Elizabeth, I’m here.”

She reached for him and the two embraced. “Thank you, Dembe.”

She shut the door softly behind Dembe and slowly moved to the couch. She stopped in front of it,  _ he  _ had bought her this couch. He had done a lot of things for her over the past three years, but buying her this couch had been one of the most touching. 

Lizzie shut her eyes and recalled the memory of when she first saw it: he had been sitting on the far end near the window, his head drooped down, soft snores escaping his nose. She had smiled at the startled, groggy look on his face when he awoke, and the smile that spread across his lips as he took in her hair style.

_ I missed you _

She felt her heart clench as it had when he first said it and she wished, desperately, that she could hear him say it again. She loved his voice, his voice, his eyes. She loved him.

Her eyes flew open and all the breath left her body, she staggered back and sat heavily on the coffee table. She clutched his hat to her chest and the full force of her internal confession crashed down on her.

_ I loved him, I love him. _

She sobbed into the quiet apartment. How could she have been so blind? So stupid? To not see what was there standing right in front of her all this time? 

Lizzie stared at the sofa, her hand reaching out to rest on the cushion of it, the fabric smooth under her hand. The two men in her life couldn’t have been more different; one was intent on giving her the world, the other on taking it away. 

She knew, right there and then, that she couldn’t be with Tom; it wouldn’t be fair to either one of them. She heaved herself off the coffee table with effort, intent on telling him right away. Her mind raced with the words she needed to say on the short walk down the hallway.

Her steps came up short when the door opened.

Tom stood there, in the doorway of the bedroom, that dopey look on his face. “So, it’s finally over?”

Lizzie looked at him skeptically. “What?”  

“We’re finally free.” Tom’s voice sounded relieved.

“Free of what?” Lizzie took a step back from Tom, afraid of his answer. “The Major?”

Tom stepped toward her, hands reaching out for hers. “Reddington. He’s finally dead. We can get our life back.”

Lizzie stood there, dumbfounded by the words Tom spewed.  _ Was he for real?  _

She felt her heartache morph into rage at Tom’s callousness. “You son of a bitch!” 

“What?”

“How could you be so cruel? Red died saving  _ you! _ ” Her anger swelled with each word that passed her lips.

Tom’s face contorted into a mask of calm, revealing nothing of his true inner thoughts. “He was a murderer who controlled every aspect of your life. We’ve been trying to get away from him for months!”  

“No, Tom,  _ you’ve _ been trying to get away from him.  _ I’ve _ been trying to make sense of my life.” Lizzie clutched the fedora tightly in her hands. “And now that he’s gone, I’ll never have that chance.”

She turned her back to him and marched to the kitchen. Gently, she dropped Red’s hat into the black box, placing the framed pen and envelopes inside as well.

Tom fought for control. The key to keeping her was convincing her of what she already knew in a rational manner, but the urge to simply force her to see his side was overpowering. He stalked after her into the kitchen.

“Lizzie, remember everything he did to us. Do you honestly not remember your hands holding my insides as they spilled out of my body  _ on the first day he met you? _ Have you forgotten about the adoption he ruined? He killed your  _ father _ ! How can you forgive him for all of that?”

Lizzie whirled on him. “I remember him pointing a gun at you because you used me as a human shield. I remember you and I beating the hell out of each other and destroying our home. I remember finding out about you and Gina Zanetakos!”

By the time her tirade was complete, her face was sodden and splotchy and her body was vibrating with rage. She gave Tom her back again; she couldn’t stomach the sight of him.

“I think you should leave, Tom.”

“I am not leaving.”

“Leave, Tom,  _ now! _ ” 

Tom stepped in closer to her, his hands gripping her arms menacingly. “That is  _ my _ baby, Lizzie, and I’m not going  _ anywhere _ .” His voice dropped low and angry.

She struggled against his grip. “Wrong; this is  _ my _ child, and I will be damned if I allow someone like _ you _ in it’s life.”

Losing his composure completely, he reared back and slapped her, once, across the cheek.

Lizzie’s head snapped to the side, the force of his hand breaking her from his grip and she stumbled into the refrigerator.

Tom moved towards her with fire in his eyes. “You can’t run from me, Lizzie.”

He grabbed her shoulder and in a moment of pure terror she reached for the first thing that she could see. He whipped her around; swooping in and for a moment was paralyzed by the sensation of white hot pain in his chest. He looked down; the sight of the stainless steel knife protruding from his chest cavity sent his body into shock.

Lizzie could do nothing but stare at the contrast of her pale hand against the jet black handle of the knife. She brought her eyes to Tom’s and watched as the life slowly drained from his eyes. His grip on her shoulder slackened and his body teetered backwards. Lizzie released her hold on the hilt and looked on as Tom collapsed on the floor.

She drew in a shaky breath, her irises glued to the pool of crimson that was slowly staining her kitchen floor. She had killed him; Tom was dead, dead and gone. At a time when she knew she should be feeling something akin to grief for the man who, only hours ago she had planned to marry, she only felt numbness take hold of her. It seemed like hours had gone by but she remained statue still, over the cooling body of Tom Keen. 

She had killed him because he would have killed her and her baby; he was already responsible for so many deaths. 

Lizzie snapped out of her daze when a faint pressure emanated from her belly. She put her hand over her stomach and felt the tell-tale sign of her child kicking against its mother.  _ I killed him to protect you _ . 

Spurred into action by the realization, Lizzie grabbed her purse of the countertop and retrieved her phone. She dialed and he picked up on the first ring.

“Dembe...I need you...at my apartment...you might want to bring Mr. Kaplan if you can.”


	5. Chapter 5

Just two days after the almost-wedding, Lizzie went into labor. The little time that had passed between her failed nuptials and her delivery had gone by in a blur. She felt that there had been no time to process Red’s death, no opportunity to analyze the profound sense of loss she felt at the void he had left. Life shuffled her along, oblivious to her suffering, in a tsunami of activity that swept her up and deposited her, confused and senseless, into the next part of her life. 

Fourteen painful hours later, after almost breaking Dembe’s hand, she welcomed her beautiful baby boy, screaming, into the world.

“Raymond James,” she whispered, looking down lovingly at the warm little bundle in her arms. 

Throughout her labor, Lizzie had been afraid that when her child was born, all she would be reminded of was the man she had come to hate and, consequently, the man she had killed. But when she held her little man in her arms for the first time, she saw only the most beautiful child she had ever laid eyes on and felt nothing but unconditional love. Chestnut brown hair, with a nose and mouth shaped just like hers and piercing baby blue eyes, there was nothing at all of Tom Keen in her child.  

“May I?” Dembe motioned to the baby.

“Of course.” She handed him over.

In her arms RJ had seemed small, but in Dembe’s, he looked absolutely tiny.  For a man who scared some of the worst people in the world, he seemed totally harmless holding her son in his arms. He was a big teddy bear as he cooed R.J, rocking him until he fell asleep.

“You named him after Raymond?” He gave her a thoughtful look.

“Yes, I did.” Her gaze stayed trained on her hand where it plucked absently at the blanket, unable to meet his eyes.  “I loved Red. I still do, to be honest, and it’s one of my biggest regrets that our last days together were spent fighting.” She sighed, her eyes drifting to the window. “Red was always larger than life. He seemed infallible and, foolishly, I always thought he’d be here. But at the end of the day, he was just a man.” She swallowed around the lump of emotion that suddenly formed in her throat. “I can't change the past, as much as I wish I could; but I can determine the future.” She glanced down at her hands.

Dembe reached out, covering both of her hands with one of his own.

“God, I miss him, Dembe. He should have been here for this. I want to see him just one more time and tell him how sorry I am; that...that I love him.” Tears poured down her cheeks. Suddenly, she threw up her hands. “Oh! Ignore me! I’m just a mess of hormones right now.”

Dembe offered her a small smile. “Raymond loved you, Elizabeth; more than anyone else in all the years that I’ve known him, and I knew him for a very long time. Everything he did was done to protect you and to try to give you the life you deserved, even if he wasn’t meant to be a part of it.” He squeezed her hand reassuringly.  “His dying wish was for me to watch over you and your child. To protect you both and make sure neither of you wanted for anything. If you wish for me to remain in the shadows, then I will do so, but I will be there for you both.” 

“That’s not what I want at all!” Lizzie backpedaled, appalled that Dembe might walk out of her life as well. “I would like you to be RJ’s godfather.” She dropped her eyes again. “I understand that it’s a lot to ask, and I won’t fault you if you chose not too, but I…” she trailed off.

“I would be honored, Elizabeth” He flashed her a bright smile that she had only seen a handful of times before. 


	6. Chapter 6

Dembe spent the next two days of Lizzie’s recuperation convincing her to leave behind the apartment. She and R.J. needed a new beginning, a chance to leave behind the stain of Tom’s lies. She agreed that she needed to make a life for herself, free from the influences of both of the men in her past. She needed to discover who she was, as a mother, as a woman. Within days, Dembe had helped her purchase a modest home on the outskirts of town.

She threw herself into caring for RJ, learning his likes and dislikes, learning to interpret his cries. He loved being in his carrier, nestled against her chest, but he hated tummy time. He was fascinated by the trickling fountain they passed when Dembe took him to the park near their house, and hated the big dogs that frequented the same park. For Lizzie, maternity leave was a time to lose herself in self-reflection and her son. Dembe’s presence allowed her to become much more introspective than she had planned. She found herself with boundless time on her hands to think while Dembe took RJ to the park or the store.

Her independence threw into sharp focus how much she had become accustomed to Red’s company, how much she had relied on his presence in her life. The shock of Red’s unexpected death had jarred her senses and, combined with the befuddling hormones that accompanied her pregnancy, had left her unsure of anything she felt or thought. With the gift of time, away from the insistent pace of the FBI, removed from the responsibilities of her marriage, she was able to think clearly, spending hours reflecting on her feelings, dissecting her emotions, and she came to a stunning conclusion: she knew, unquestionably, she had loved Red. 

During the weeks leading up to the wedding, she had been frustrated with everything that was going on, being pulled in so many different directions by both Tom and Red. She realized now, with time and distance, that pushing Red away was the worst thing she could have done. Her regret carved deep hollows in even the farthest recesses of her heart. 

Combing through her memories, she had finally been able to pinpoint the exact moment she had fallen for the Concierge of Crime. It had been the night of the King’s auction, when she stood in a concrete cell, taking in the image of Red on his knees, with a gun flush against the back of his head. In that instance, with the knowledge that he was about to be taken from her, her priorities shifted. She heard him sigh her name; the last word he thought he’d ever say was  _ her _ name. The weight of her realization had been too much to analyze at the time. Her job, her dying marriage, all the lies and deceptions between them had erected too many barriers for her to consider a relationship.

After Red’s death, every memory of him took on an inherently rosy glow. She was finally able to see how all the things he had done had been to protect her. All his sacrifices and endeavors had been for her benefit, and she had selfishly punished him for all of it. Now her days were filled with her child and her memories, but her nights were spent fostering her regrets even as she tried to move forward with her life. If she could make things right with him now, she would take that chance, but unfortunately her opportunity to fix things between them had been snuffed out like a candle in the wind. She would have to content herself with creating a life for RJ and the memory of a man who had loved her more fiercely than she deserved, in a way she had been too blind to see until it was too late.


	7. Chapter 7

Lizzie and Dembe celebrated RJ turning three months old with a trip to the zoo. They spent the morning listening to the baby’s gleeful laughter as they held him up to fenced enclosures, peering at monkeys and giraffes and, his favorite, the tigers. After a full day, RJ was more than ready for bed. Lizzie tucked him into his bassinet with a soft kiss on his head and asked Dembe to stay with him while she spent the last remaining hours of sunlight on a walk around the lake. The day had been another milestone, in a series of important life events, that she had experienced alone.

She strolled down the narrow path towards the lake behind the house. Lizzie stepped onto the dock, the wood creaking beneath her feet as she padded out; settling herself on the well-worn wooden bench at the end.  She wrapped the loose fitting cardigan around her and relaxed against the bench. There was something peaceful about about enjoying the way the light from the setting sun danced across the still waters that allowed her to find solace in what her life had become. The air grew colder, sending a chill down her spine; she tightened the fabric around her and lifted herself off the bench. Lizzie took in the view one last time before she turned on her heel and froze.

Standing at the other end of the dock was a ghost.

Red stood there, dressed in a pair of well fitting dark jeans, boots and a well-worn dark grey henley sweater, his hands dangled at his sides as if he was unsure what to do with them; his feet shuffled nervously on the wooden slats.  He’d been pacing the woods nearby for the better part of the day, waiting for Lizzie to return from her trip to the city. Dembe had told him about her nightly ritual of watching the sunset so he would know where to find her. 

His full attention was trained on the devastated woman standing so close, yet so far away from him. He watched the mix of emotions flash across her face; anger, disbelief, sadness, hurt, and something else...something he could not quite place. Hope surged in his chest at the possibility that maybe, just maybe, she was happy to see him. He was rooted in place, afraid to make the first move. Their reunion needed to be on Lizzie’s terms.  

Her brain screamed his name at her on repeat as she stared, disbelieving, at the figure nearly within her reach. Questions surged through her mind as she tried to come to terms with what she was seeing standing right in front of her. Sometimes when she woke in the darkness, gripped by the terror of his death, she convinced herself to hold out a single shred of hope that Red was still alive somewhere in the world. That he had somehow made it out alive and was living on the beaches of some private island in the middle of the ocean. 

To see him standing there now, she was furious. Furious and relieved. Part of her wanted nothing more than to wrap her arms around him tightly, while another part wanted to punch him in the face. Her feet carried her toward him, slowly at first, picking up speed as she got closer, until she was running to him, desperate to feel his arms around her. Suddenly, she halted and stood, trembling, a few feet from him.  

Red stood there, rooted to the dock; his eyes bored into hers, waiting for her to make the first move. He winced inwardly when he saw the way the muscles in her jaw tightened, flashes of danger passed over her blue eyes. 

“You’re alive.” Her words were short, clipped, furious.

“Lizzie.” 

“You’re  _ alive. _ ” The repetition seemed to ground her, her anger finding a toehold in a conversation that she never thought she’d have.

“Yes.” His brief admission held month's worth of anxiety. 

She stepped closer, her hand flying back involuntarily before she had even fully decided to let it, and set a stinging slap against his cheek.

Hot, angry tears coursed down her face where she stood, watching him recover, a bright red stain blossoming on the side of his face.

“You bastard,” she ground out, desperate to control the shaking in her voice. 

“Lizzie.” His tone begged her to let him explain. He opened his arms as if to show that he meant her no harm, his hands outstretched and seeking hers.

She took a step back from him, months of anger and betrayal washing over her in waves. “You let me believe you were dead.” Her horrified whisper rasped at him.

"I know. I’m sorry.” There was so much more he wanted to say, but he felt confined to this, to letting her have her reaction, resigned to take whatever punishment she saw fit to give him.

“Why? Why would you do that to me?” The questions flowed out of her on a tidal wave of fury. Her hands balled into fists at her sides.  “How could you? You fucking asshole!”

Red took a step forward, his hands reaching for her. After years of trying to protect her from pain, he wanted now to hold her and soothe the worried look from her face.

The moment his hands touched her, she batted them away. Something inside her snapped and she lunged at him, her palm connecting with his face again, the sound echoing off the surface of the water.

Red caught her around the waist, gripping her tightly against his body. His free hand fought to gain control of her flailing limbs, ignoring the more painful belts. Her momentum forced him back a step; he tripped on the edge of the dock, tumbling hard onto the grass of the shore. Lizzie’s body crushed his chest, leaving him breathless. Her hands continued pummeling him even through their fall.

Finally, her limbs grew heavy and weak and she sagged against him, almost as if she had forgotten where she was. Abruptly, she pulled away, scrambling backwards to sit on the wet grass.

They both stilled, panting, eyes locked on each other. She was the first to break, her body accordioning in on itself, the months of grief working its way out of her body in a series of tragic sobs.

His face crumbled and he dragged her into his lap. Now unprotesting, she allowed it, letting her anger turn to sorrow as she remembered all the hours she had spent mourning him.

“Lizzie.” 

“Why? Why, Red?” Her wails gave way to a soft weeping.

Red wound his arm around her shoulder, holding her close. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

He pulled back from her to see her face.

“Don't.” Her words surprised even herself as she squeezed him tighter.  “Please don't let go,” she whispered against his neck.  

He heard the desperation in her voice, felt the trembling in her body, and he sympathized because he felt the same way.

“Never, Lizzie. I’ll never let go, I promise. Never again.” He pressed his lips against her temple.

An eternity later, Red pulled back again to look at her face, and this time she let him, just far enough so he could rest his forehead against her own.

“I’m so sorry, Lizzie.” His own tears slid silently down his face.

He brought his hand up to wipe away her tears. “Will you let me explain?” He needed her permission, needed to know whether or not she even cared what happened to him anymore.

Lizzie breathed out the breath she had been holding and opened her eyes to meet his, just inches away. She pulled back from him, needing distance, needing space to hear his story; to understand what could have possibly been worth deceiving her this way.

“I need to know, Red.”

He filled his lungs with a fortifying breath of cool evening air. He had practiced what he would say for hours, but finding the courage to lay his heart at her feet after everything in their past was easier said than done. 

“I was there, that day at the hospital when you told Tom and Nick that you felt like your life wasn't your own. Because of me.” He held up his hands. “It wasn't my intention to eavesdrop; I was there to offer you moral support, but I overheard your conversation.

“At that moment, I knew I had damaged you more by being in your life than out of it. I knew you wanted me gone.” He sat back, propping his weight on his outstretched arms. “Not that I could really blame you. Since I came storming into your life, I’ve brought you nothing but pain and heartbreak. You don't know how much that kills me, to know that I could hurt the woman I love so much.” He swallowed and turned his eyes to the horizon, to the ever-setting sun. 

Lizzie watched him, her face carefully blank, masking the hope that surged in her chest. He loved her!

“I decided to disappear. My plan was already in motion, but I couldn’t bring myself to leave without seeing you one last time, without trying once more to convince you that you deserved better than what Tom could offer.” Tears stung his eyes remembering her face on the day of her wedding. “You deserve so much, Lizzie, more than him and...more than me. But that didn’t stop me from hoping, from wanting the best for you.”

“Then why did you leave?” The words burst forth from her lips before she could contain them.

“You needed to have control of your life, to have the freedom to make your own choices. I didn’t want to take that from you anymore.

“Getting shot wasn’t part of the plan, but once it happened, it seemed best just to let that excuse stand.”

“Then why? What made you think that pretending to be dead would be a good idea?” Frustrated exasperation leaked into her voice.

“I saw my death as an opportunity. A chance for you to be happy.”

“Did Dembe know?”

Red shook his head. “No. I wanted to tell him, but I couldn’t bring myself to put him in the position of lying to you. It was more important to me that he stay by your side. He didn’t find out until a week ago when I contacted him.”

“I killed Tom that night! It’s been three months…”

Red shifted his weight to his other arm. “I didn’t know. Not in the beginning. My injuries were severe; the doctors didn’t know if I would survive. There were...complications with the surgery, so Kate had them put me in a medically-induced coma for a time to allow my body to heal.” He stared off into the distance, as if even remembering was painful. 

“When I woke up, you were the first thing I asked about. Kate informed me that Dembe was watching over you and that you had given birth to a healthy boy, but nothing else.”

He dropped his eyes to her face, his voice catching in his throat. “I tried to get more information from her but she was tight-lipped about your whereabouts, insisting that you were perfectly fine and that I concentrate on healing. I spent weeks in rehab, rebuilding my body.” 

His lopsided smile made her heart flutter.

“If you thought she was strict before...well, she worked me harder than any physical therapist I’ve ever met, pushing me to get better. She never let me miss a session. And, let me tell you, I am a terrible patient.” He laughed to himself at the memory, at the trouble he had caused her with his complaining.

“It was only when I was fully healed that she finally gave in and told me about Tom.” His eyes flickered away from her face, as if he were embarrassed to disclose his feelings. “I hoped…” He cleared his throat. “I thought that  _ maybe _ there was...a chance.”

He shuffled closer to her. “So, I reached out to Dembe to get verbal confirmation that you were safe. At first, he refused to tell me anything; he was so mad at me for misleading you both. He actually hung up on me the first few times I called. After a few days, he relented. He knew you were hurting; he told me that you missed me. Honestly, Lizzie, it’s the only reason I came back.”

Lizzie sat up a little straighter. “Dembe  _ knew _ for a week?”

Red held out one of his hands. “I made him promise he wouldn’t tell you. It wasn’t easy for him, and trust me, he got his knocks in on me.” He absentmindedly rubbed his jaw. “Please believe me...I wanted to stay away, I wanted to let you have your life and I’ll go now if that’s what you want. I only came back because...I...hoped. And I couldn’t stay away from you, not if there was a chance.”

She stared at him for a long moment, her face impassive, until he thought perhaps she wouldn’t speak to him at all. She took in everything he said, listening and processing his words. She allowed his voice to drift over her, using its soothing tone to help her calm down.

“You know, this is the first time you’ve answered a question right after I asked it.” She pushed herself off her arms, staring straight at him. “This is the only time you’ve ever told me the whole story, without me having to beg.”

He peered at her intently with sincerity in his voice. “I want you to know everything, Lizzie. I am so sorry for all the times I’ve refused you. You deserve to know this.” His chest ached with the need to hold her, to make her understand. 

Suddenly, it occurred to her that she had exactly what she wanted. Every prayer and wish she had made over the last three months had been answered. Red was here, he was safe, and he wanted her, too. She made a decision; she wouldn’t waste any more time.

Lizzie catapulted forward, rocketing her body into his and knocking him back against the grass for the second time. She pressed her lips to his, putting every ounce of sorrow and madness and grief and joy into that one electrifying touch. 

Red responded a split second later, momentarily stunned at the contact he had been craving for years. He deepened the kiss, thrusting his tongue past her lips to sweep across hers. She moaned deeply, her satisfaction vibrating across his tongue.  

Letting out a deep sigh, Lizzie leaned back, breaking their kiss. She stood, grabbing Red’s hands and pulling him up. She turned to go, walking in the direction of her house. He tugged on her hand, turning her back toward him, a question in his eyes.

"Come on, let’s go home.”

“Home, Lizzie?” he asked softly.

"Yes, Red, home. I’ve spent the last three months figuring out what you meant to me. There are things I need to say to you and  _ that  _ is a conversation that requires coffee,” she finished, turning and leading him in the direction of the house. 

His fear quickly abated at the realization that Lizzie had referred to them going home.  _ Home _ Red repeated again and again in his mind, balancing hopefulness with reality. 

They approached the house, hand in hand. Red heard the creak of the screen door opening; he watched Dembe step out onto the veranda. Red stopped in front of his friend. A moment of silence passed between them before Dembe pulled Red into a strong hug. They parted and smiled at each other, Dembe gave Red a small nod in the direction of the house; there would be time for them to talk later.

Lizzie pulled Red along behind her, making her way to the kitchen.

“Would you like something to drink?” She dropped his hand, moving towards the cabinets. 

“Tea, please.” He gave her a small smile. 

Lizzie prepared the tea, using the time to calm down and school her emotions, taking deep, measured breaths. She stood with her back towards him, her palms resting on the cool, white marble countertop; head hung and shoulders stooped. She turned back to him, passing a mug without comment. They stood together in her kitchen for a moment in quiet contemplation before she spoke.

“I was a coward and I was awful to you. I was incredibly rude, and you were so undeserving of that. Everything you had ever done for me, had been what you thought was in my best interest. I fought you and hurt you.” She took a sip. “When I realized I was pregnant, I thought I was doing the right thing, trying to work things out with Tom. A part of me didn't think you would want me, after realizing I was pregnant with his baby.” She shook her head. “I was wrong.”

He wanted to go to her, to gather her up in his arms and hold her, but the words she spoke were like a balm to his soul, absolving him of every wrong he’d ever done.

She felt so grateful that he was here, but there was a lingering fear that he might up and disappear from her life again. Her fear quickly overcame her, her heart rate spiking. Her legs felt like jelly, her breaths coming in erratic puffs, vision blurring. She sank to the floor.

He dropped to his knees, lunging forward to wrap his arms around her. He cradled her back into his chest and held her tightly, whispering soft, encouraging words in an attempt to calm her breathing. This is exactly what he’s always wanted to do for her, the sort of thing she had never allowed.

“Slowly, Lizzie. It’s going to be ok. Breathe in and out with me, Lizzie. That’s it sweetheart” 

She calmed enough, through ragged breaths and sobs, to turn in his arms until she was sitting in his lap sideways, her face pressed against his neck. 

“Are you alright?”He brushed his lips against her ear. 

He felt her nod against his shoulder.

“Don’t...don’t leave me again.” 

His chest constricted painfully and he gathered her closer. “Oh, my darling girl, no. No, I’m not going anywhere,” he promised fiercely. “I love you, Elizabeth,” he whispered as he turned her body to face his, and gently caressed her lips with his own.

Where the kiss outside had been passionate and frenzied, this one was unhurried and full of promise. 

“I will always be with you Lizzie. Always. No matter the distance or if I’m taken from this life, I will always be with you, watching over and protecting you.” His hands reached up to frame her face, his damp eyes boring into hers. 

She pressed her lips to his again, relishing their closeness and the fact that she even had this opportunity.

“Are you ok now?” His words were heavy and quiet, his eyes peering into hers concernedly.

She nodded, unwinding her arms from where they had wrapped around his chest. She pushed herself away to stand, her hands encircling her mug again as she watched him rise and return to his own cup as well.

They stared at each other for a long moment in silence. It was as if they were both afraid. 

“Can we sit?” His voice was as unsteady as her heartbeat, she noted.

They moved wordlessly to the table on the other side of the kitchen, settling themselves into the wooden chairs, coffee mugs in hand. He began for her, giving her more time.

“The last time we talked, you told me to leave. You chose to be with Tom, no matter what I told you about him, about who he really was; you wouldn't heed my warnings. I begged you to reconsider your options. And when you made it clear what you wanted, I did what I had to.” A hardness had crept into his voice at the end of his speech.

Lizzie looked up at him sharply. “You left.”

“It was what you needed,” he stated the words simply, but nothing about it had felt simple to either one of them. “You wanted your life to be yours, to make your own decisions. You couldn’t do that with me in your life.”

She nodded, finally able to see his motives, even though it hurt to remember how his absence had felt.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured. “It wasn’t fair to you, the things I said. I was selfish.” 

“I should have trusted you, trusted that you could handle the answers you wanted. Keeping you out of the loop only pushed you further away.”

She needed to admit something else to him. “I don’t even know why...Tom. I knew it was a mistake, but I couldn’t see another way out.”

They sat in the quiet together, darkness falling even thicker around the house.

“I didn’t know.” Her eyes wandered to the window. 

“What?”

“I didn’t know how much it would hurt when you were gone. I didn’t know how many regrets I would have, how they would all come crushing down on me so painfully.  I didn’t know that I loved you.” She met his eyes intently.

He sucked in a breath at her admission. She loved him. Never did he think he’d hear her utter those words. His heart hammered in his chest, the blood in his veins rushing through his body.

Red’s hand slid across the table, reaching for hers. She twined their fingers, squeezing gently. His voice dropped an octave as he uttered the words his heart had been dying to say to her for far too long.

“I love you, too.” His whisper trembled over her skin.

She smiled, relieved by the confirmation of her hopes.

Red squeezed her hand. “We’ve both made mistakes, but the past is the past and we cannot change it. We can only learn from it and move forward.”

“I want that.” Her tone was earnest. 

Silence settled over them, both allowing each other's presence to be a comfort. Their confessions circled their brains as their hearts started the slow process of mending. 

Red’s thumb stroked against the backs of her knuckles, and despite her body being emotionally drained, Lizzie felt a wave of arousal wash over her. She caught the twinkle in his eye and the tension between them grew.

Without a word Lizzie stood from the kitchen table and tugged him to his feet.

“We’ve wasted so much time…” Her voice grew husky, barely above a whisper.

He nodded, head cocked to one side, his eyes regarding her with just a touch of wariness.

“I don’t want to waste any more.” She was firm, her decision made. She was done thinking; now was the time to act on her feelings. 

She pulled him behind her to her bedroom. 


	8. Chapter 8

They lunged forward at the same time, their mouths clashing, all tongues and teeth and desperate searching. Red  pressed his body into hers to feel as much of her as he could, pushing her backward until her back met the wood of the closed door.  One hand came to rest on her hip, the other gently cupping her cheek against his palm. 

Her fingernails scratched the short hairs at the back of his neck causing him to growl his pleasure into her mouth. Her hand moved down his body, reaching for the hem of his sweater, pushing it and his t-shirt up and off his body, the palms of her hands smoothing over his chest along the way. His upper body laid bare before her, her hands explored the newly exposed skin. Her fingers carded through his chest hair and roam from collar bone to belly button. 

Her hands wandered along his back, holding him close to her. Along the journey, her hands skimmed over his scars, lovingly running her fingers through the valleys and ridges on the marred skin. She felt him tense and pull back.

“Lizzie--”

She covered his mouth with hand. “No. Not know. Later.”

“Okay.” He dropped his head to the curve of her neck, nibbling and sucking on the skin there, raising a red and purple mark.  _ Mine, _ he thought possessively. 

She brushed her pinky over his nipple, prompting him to clench his teeth at the shot of pleasure that spiked through him. She maximized on his distraction and turned to his neck, sucking and biting the skin right below his ear, leaving her own mark on him. Pulling back, she looked at her handiwork with satisfaction. Pressing her back against the door, he bent at the knees and hooked his hands under her thighs, hoisting her up against the door. 

She wrapped her legs around his waist in response. Her back arched against his chests, driving her breasts against him, separated only by the cloth of her shirt.

He pressed his face against her skin, inhaling her scent in the valley of her breasts. Turning his head, he ran his stubble against the soft skin. He placed wet, open-mouthed kisses to her flushed, heated skin, kissing along the seam of her bra which obscured his hungry gaze and from feasting on her breasts. 

His teeth dragged the fabric of her bra down her breast, exposing her nipple to the cold air of the room, making it pucker and harden immediately. He opened his mouth over her breast, sucking her nipple into his mouth, biting it gently and then soothing it over with his tongue. 

Lizzie thrust her hips forward in response against his own, his fully engorged cock confined by the fabric of his pants, pressing right where she needs it. Both of them moan at the raw sensation.

Wrapping his arms around her, he unhooked her bra and threw it behind him. He pulled her upper body flush with his, breath hitching at the contact, and made his way over to the bed. He laid her down in the middle, divested them both of their clothing, and lay cradled between her thighs, covering her body with his own.  

He kissed along her jaw, working his way down the length of her body. He wanted to take his time, to make this last for her, but he was desperate to taste all of her, run his hands over every inch of her skin. His tongue blazed a trail down her body, dipping past her belly button, on a path to her core. 

Her hand reached for him, stopping his descent, his eyes flashing up to her with worry and and question.

“Not this time, please,” her breathing escaped her lungs erratically. “I want you inside me the first time” 

He smiled and slid back up her body. Reaching down to manipulate her folds, he groaned when he felt how ready she was for him. He placed the tip of his cock at her. He intertwined their hands by her head.  He leaned in to place a gentle kiss against her lips, waiting for her permission. In answer, she pressed her lips harder against his, deepening the kiss. He pulled back slightly to watch her face as pressed into her, joining their bodies at last.

Once he is fully seated within her, he paused. He gently brushed away the matted hair on her forehead, giving himself an unobstructed view of her face. 

“You're so incredibly beautiful, Lizzie.” He rubbed his nose along the ridge of hers. 

“I love you, Raymond.” She gently pushed her hips up against, feeling him sink a little further into her, silently telling him to move. 

Their lovemaking was slow and sensual, drawing every moment out as long as possible. Lizzie tugged her hand free and wound her arms around his body, pulling him down completely on top of her, his weight a comfort she’d long denied herself. 

Red pounded into her with abandon. He hauled her leg up, draping one knee over his shoulder, opening her up to him. He pushed deeper within her, hitting spots no man ever had. Lizzie thrashed her head from side to side, moaning his name as she felt her orgasm quickly approaching. She pulled his face down to hers and claimed his mouth in a passionate kiss. The angle of his hips tilted just enough that with each thrust his pubic bone rubbed against her clit, sending her flying over the edge.

“Raymond!” she moaned against his lips as her walls fluttered around him, milking him deep inside of her.

Her orgasm pulsed around him, pushing him over the edge at the sound of his name on her lips. He groaned into her neck as his hips pistoned in and out of her in quick succession, coating her walls with his warm seed. 

They held each other tightly as the came down from their high. Red rolled to his side and pulled her tightly against him. They let the comfortable silence envelope them as they basked in the newfound depth of their relationship. 

Red reached for the blankets and threw it over their cooling bodies. He tilted his head to capture her lips once more. 

Lizzie sighed against his lips and snuggled deeper into him, and soon they both drifted off.

* * *

Red raised his coffee cup to his lips and sipped, his free hand expertly flipping eggs in the skillet. Dembe stood nearby, buttery a stack of toast. After their early-morning conversation, the atmosphere between them had returned to normal, gratitude and apologies exchanged.

Dembe laid a reassuring hand on Red’s shoulder. “He will love you, Raymond. You have nothing to worry about.”

Lizzie descended the stairs into the kitchen with her son in her arms, her eyes on Red, who practically vibrated with nervous energy. 

“RJ, I have someone I would like you to meet,” she spoke softly to the little one in her arms. 

She turns her body so that Red is in RJ’s direct line of sight. Without missing a beat, as soon as RJ’s eyes focus on him, he responded.

His tiny arms flailed about as Lizzie placed him in Raymond’s arms.

Red cradled him to his chest tightly, peering into his small face with wonder. “I’ve got you,” Red tells the baby, a single tear trailing down his cheek. He touched RJ’s tiny hand gently, stroking the edge of his finger across the soft skin of his knuckles. It took Red’s breath away for a moment as the little one closed his hand around Red’s finger, squeezing tightly. He rocked the baby from side to side, cooing to him.  

Dembe rounded the island and embraced Lizzie in a tight hug. She relaxed in his embrace, so content in this moment, her anger at him for his part in the charade forgotten.

Red raised his head to meet Dembe’s eyes with his moist ones. “Thank you,” he murmured thickly. “For watching over them and keeping them safe. I can never repay you for what you have done for me.” 

“I am just grateful that you are alive. This is where you belong, with your family.” Dembe replied with fondness. 

“Yes, I do. My family.” There is awe and a sudden sense of disbelief in Red’s voice. 

Lizzie crossed behind him, winding her arms around his waist and pressing her lips against his shoulder. 

“I love you” she whispered.

“I love you too, sweetheart.” His words are for her, but he only has eyes for RJ.

“I want us to do all the cliche things families do; take trips to the zoo, take family vacations to the beach and the mountains. I want to have arguments with you over which curtains to buy for the living room.” He turned to her at last, enfolding her with an arm around his shoulder.

“Hey baby,” she cooed at the infant, nuzzling his little face with her own. 

Red watched her with her son, his heart constricting with an intense love that he hadn’t felt so strongly in a long time. For the first time in over twenty years, Raymond Reddington could honestly say he was truly happy. Never in his life had he thought he would actually get a second chance at a life, at having a family.  

“My family,” he whispered, holding them close, promising himself he’d never let go. 


End file.
